"I wonder what kind of songs you like best," says Mona, dreamily, letting her fingers run noiselessly over the keys of the Collard. "If you are like me, you like sad ones.",
"Yes, very beautiful," he answers, thinking of the stately oaks and aged elms and branching beeches that go so far to make up the glory of the ivied Towers.,
Mona is happier than words can say. She is up to her eyes in the business, that business sweetest to a woman's soul, the ordering and directing and general management of a trousseau. In her case she is doubly blessed, because she has the supervizing of two!.
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